The old oak tree that I daily pass
Has stood there so majestically
What appears to be eternity
For decades hasn’t had a canopy
Of green turning to gold in the fall
Yet the old oak remains straight and tall
Buffeted by wicked wind and cold
Which has stripped it of its wrinkled bark
Now but a perch for the meadowlark
The tree is a symbol of our love
Though we will become part of the past
Our mighty love shall forever last
Head of a Girl, Ford Madox Brown (n.d.)You are as distant as the yellow moon
So tense, fearful that you are apt to swoon
Oh to see what’s going on in your head
Desiring to provide you quick relief
But not sure if you’re hiding sullen grief
Or issue of the longing heart instead
My guess, it must be a question of love
At your age what else to be thinking of
But if love why are you melancholy
Love is meant to bring great joy to the heart
Each lover declaring never to part
If there be no trust there’ll no eternity
